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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27220426">static</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunblind_seabird/pseuds/sunblind_seabird'>sunblind_seabird</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Letter to Nobody [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Undertale (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, eventually, if i ever fuckign finish it, ships eventually mayb</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:13:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,734</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27220426</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunblind_seabird/pseuds/sunblind_seabird</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It was quiet. </p><p>There was no bird song, no gentle rustle of wind disturbing the leaves or grass. Day did not grace the world, nor did the bliss of night. No living thing dared touch this place. The world was still, solemn, as static as the stone statue that remained kneeled in the ruins of this world. </p><p>Dream, so long ago, had been furious to find himself back here.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>sans/sans</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Letter to Nobody [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1987300</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>static</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was quiet. </p><p>There was no bird song, no gentle rustle of wind disturbing the leaves or grass. Day did not grace the world, nor did the bliss of night. No living thing dared touch this place. The world was still, solemn, as static as the stone statue that remained kneeled in the ruins of this world. </p><p>Dream, so long ago, had been furious to find himself back here. </p><p>Furious on a scale he'd never experienced before, the kind of anger that violence spawned from. But the anger that had once scorched his soul had long since burned out, leaving nothing but cold resignation in its wake. He was tired. The kind of exhaustion that plagued his every waking moment, that whispered repeated reminders of his failures until he felt nothing more but hollowed out- as empty of life as the stone that now held him. </p><p>Cross's betrayal, his abandonment, the unending heartbreak, the sheer loneliness of the life he had been living had been the first stone cast, the first step into his downfall. His insanity-driven, twisted search of revenge for the pain inflicted on him had been the final push. A step too far. Dream had been lead here, tricked, defeated. </p><p>And left behind. </p><p>The world around him did not thrive, nor did it decay. A prison of stasis that not even his once desperate pleas for freedom could interrupt. </p><p>The only relief from the nothingness were those who visited.</p><p>Not that anyone did, nowadays. </p><p>Dream had once, perhaps pathetically, craved their presence. Had wanted to hear them, had wanted to be anything but alone, even if they had been the same to cage him. Even if their presence was always ridden with guilt and an unending moroseness- or, sometimes, volatile emotions and explosive words. Harshness aimed at someone who could no longer fight back, who had stopped fighting back ages ago. </p><p>He didn't have much of an opinion on it, these days.</p><p>A dull, distant understanding that he is not the one they are upset with. It was easier to be mad at something faceless, voiceless, than it was to stare yourself down in a mirror and face your own reality. Guilt was a heavy burden to bear.</p><p>"Where are we?" a voice questioned, sudden and new. </p><p>Horribly familiar, and though he tried, he couldn't place it to a name any longer. Faces had left his mind ages ago, and names were not far behind. Dream thought little of it, at first, no longer new to the taunting whispers a haunted mind could produce. The next voice, similarly taunting in its familiarity, was enough to drag him into reality enough to be aware of the world outside of himself. </p><p>"It looks like no ones been here in a while," another spoke, "really run down if you ask me... why are we here again?" </p><p>"Exploring, Reaper! This place looked really unusual from every other au we've been to, so I grabbed you guys and here we are!" A third voice. Their group seemed to be behind him, somewhere. All he could do was wait and see if they would come his way. The sound of grass underfoot was noisy, and he couldn't help the brief spark of excitement at the knowledge that the sound was coming his way. </p><p>"Woah, what is that?" One of the visitors raced into his line of vision, colorful mismatched eyelights almost overwhelming from their intensity. They brought a hand up to his face, nearly jabbing a finger into his empty socket were it not for someone graciously smacking their hand away.</p><p>"Ink, don't go around sticking fingers in people's sockets!!" he snapped, a frown across his skull as he turned to face Dream. Displeasure melted into confusion, purple eyelights troubled. He kneeled in-front of Dream, staring into his empty gaze with an ever-growing grimace. </p><p>"Huh? why? Its just a statue Nightmare" </p><p>Nightmare. Nightmare? </p><p>Dream felt sickened, confused as he stared into the face of his supposed brother. He couldn't recall him looking like this, bones ivory as if blessed by the moon itself, dressed in attire that didn't match what little he remembered. The lack of that piercing cyan. The lack of that horrible, nauseating guilt. This fake was little more than that, another skeleton by the same name. So assured by that, he refused to think otherwise.</p><p>"But it isn't" Nightmare, the fake, stated, blessedly turning his gaze to his companions as they gathered around. </p><p>"It...they're a monster, like us. Their aura is strange though" he continued, rising to his feet, the wariness of this fake clear in the air. The first meal Dream had had in who knew how long. "I've never felt anything like it. Its almost frightening." </p><p>The unnamed one kneeled in front of him, empty sockets observing- a hand hovered, hesitant to reach out to Dream. Fearful and empathic, worried- for him? Truly? "Do you think they're conscious?" </p><p>"Yes."</p><p>Without hesitation, the fake confirmed it, the metaphorical rug continually tugged from beneath his feet. Perhaps a new empath? What could this be? How would they know? The knowledge made the empty-socketed skeleton frown further, troubled by the news. The other two seemed troubled by this as well, the fake ringing his hands together nervously. </p><p>"Reaper... maybe you should... I can't imagine being aware and..." Nightmare started, but didn't finish the sentence. Didn't seem to need to, as 'Reaper' reached out finally, hand rested against the cold stone of Dreams' cheek. They sat in quiet anticipation, but whatever was supposed to occur simply didn't. A failure, it seemed.</p><p>"Sooooo are they dead?" Ink asked, callously, though his companions didn't seem to mind. Dream himself wasn't too bothered, a friend who now escaped him had been like that, hadn't he? An odd fellow, an inability to care, not that he hadn't wanted to. The details painstakingly escaped him, thoughts and memories like holding water with cupped hands. Failure to do so was inevitable.</p><p>"No," Reaper frowned, removing his hand as he looked back to Nightmare, "I can't reap them."</p><p>Nightmares' frown grew ever more, "An immortal, like us, bound by stone? I cannot imagine living like that, let alone the hell of being aware." </p><p>"You think they get claustrophobic?" Ink butted in, fully interested, "do you think they did something bad and thats why they're stuck? OH OH what if-" </p><p>"Ink" Nightmare cut off the start to the excited ramblings sternly, "I do understand this is fascinating, but remember they are aware of what we're saying. Whether or not they understand us is a different story. Hypothesis later, for now we should decide what to do with them if death cannot be their freedom."</p><p>A part of Dream somehow still felt bitter about his fate being out of his hands. But the resignation won out, as it normally did, for no amount of struggling would ever lead to anything for him. These strangers leaving with no return would be no different to the actions of those he had called his companions, to the one he had called his brother, and truthfully, it would hurt far less than the abandonment of loved ones. With time, his mind would simply forget this had ever occurred. </p><p>"Fine fine," Ink sighed, crossing his arms- seemingly taking things a bit more seriously now. "You wanna try to free them, maybe?" </p><p>Nightmare looked down at Dream, considering. Reaper spoke up. </p><p>"Even if they end up being dangerous, there are better ways to imprison someone than this. Could you imagine if someone did this to Dream, Nightmare?" </p><p>Hahahhahaa. ha. Dream? Another fake? Or the unthinkable? The swell of anger and sheer hysterics warred with his despair, his apathy, emotions an uncontrolled storm, threatening to overtake him. Freedom? A cruel joke, a taunt, a jest right in the face of- </p><p>The anger died, like a sigh on a weak flame. Burnt out and left ashen. There was no point to feeling that way, there was no solution to be gained by it. Nightmare had felt this all, it seemed, left wary and uncertain. Questioning his own actions. </p><p>"It would be inhumane to leave anyone like this, no matter the crimes. Assuming they're guilty of anything,"  Nightmare sighed, finally, and the wave of unfiltered devastation that overtook Dream couldn't be helped. Couldn't be stopped. Even fakes and strangers thought him more of a person than his loved ones had.</p><p>They had made their choice, it seemed, moving a fair distance away from Dream as they discussed how to free him. He shut them out, distanced himself from the situation, from his own torturous emotions. Whatever happened was out of his hands, and wasn't that terrifying? Face to face with your own helplessness, what more could you do but hide and pretend it isn't there?</p><p>Even as distanced from reality he tried to make himself, there was no missing the moment of freedom. The coldness of the stifled air hitting him directly, the freedom of movement, the sounds and sensation of the grass crumbling under his hands as he caught himself on weakened limbs. </p><p>For a long moment, he felt unreal. Truthfully, there wasn't a single moment anything felt real, there wasn't a single moment anything had ever been real. Even now, this could be a new, advanced trick of his own fractured mind, a gimmick, another mockery to haunt his waking hours.</p><p>Dream stood. </p><p>The three skeletons, a bit smaller and more youthful than he'd originally assumed stared up at him. </p><p>It was quiet, none quite knowing what to say. What to do. Would would one do, in a situation like this? What would be appropriate? He had once spent every moment dreaming of this freedom, but now achieving it, even were it just a brief trickery of insanity, he fumbled into a cluelessness that seemed to never leave him.</p><p>The fake made the first move, "Lets start somewhere simple," he started, an odd mix of timid and fabricated bravery as he stared Dream in his only functioning eye. "I call myself Nightmare. These are my companions, Reaper and Ink. We have more friends elsewhere, Dream and Error. We're like you, it seems. What do you call yourself?"</p><p>A lot to take in. Only two names he fully recognized, however. Dream brought a trembling hand to his face, lightly tracing the fractures in his skull. </p><p>"I suppose you can call me shattered."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa</p></blockquote></div></div>
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